Shadow and Doubt
by Faramir's Tumbleweed
Summary: The Great Plague attacks Middle earth again. In a desperate attempt to save Éowyn and Elboron, Faramir sends them away. But things do not go so well as Faramir falls ill himself.
1. Farewell

**Summary: **The Great Plague attacks Middle-earth again. In a desperate attempt to save Éowyn and Elboron, Faramir sends them away. But things do not go so well as Faramir falls ill himself.

**A/N: **Inspired by reading the article about Gondor on Wikipedia. And I'm sorry I stole a line from the movie _Troy._

**Disclaimer: **I own a few of the obvious characters. The rest I am merely borrowing.

**I**

"Lord," a voice whispered in Faramir's ear. Faramir was awake instantly. It was Beregond, holding a candle. His face was full of worry and fear. "Lord Faramir," whispered Beregond, "a messenger awaits you. He has ridden from Minas Tirith. He bears a message from the King Elessar. He says 'tis urgent."

"Hand me my mantle," whispered Faramir. Beregond handed him the mantle, hanging from the bedpost. Silently, so as not to awaken Éowyn or Elboron, Faramir slipped out of the door. Beregond was worried... And if Faramir knew Beregond, it was not like him to worry. Faramir quickened his pace.

A man was staring into the fire, tapping his foot. When he saw Faramir, he snapped into a salute. "Prince Faramir," he said. "I bring an urgent letter from the King Elessar. He bids you read it immedietly, lord, and decide immedietly." From his cloak, the messenger drew forth a letter. It was sealed with red wax, impressed with the symbol of the King Elessar. "May the Valar be with you," said the messenger, turning to leave.

"And with you," Faramir said robotically. He broke the seal and opened the letter. The parchment was covered with the King Elessar's firm hand:

_Faramir,_

_My news is grim. The Great Plague has once again awoken. There are five in the Houses of Healing, and I do not doubt that within this night, more will join their number. People are fleeing Minas Tirith this very moment, Faramir. I am sending Arwen and Eldarion away to Tolfolas with a van of my most trusted men. I bid you to send Éowyn and Eldarion with them, my dear friend. As for myself, I will stay in the City with the few healers who volunteered to stay. I will need your help if we are to keep this demon under control, but I shall not force you. If you feel that you are needed most with your family, then I tell you, go with them. Arwen and Eldarion leave in the morning, Faramir. Please make your decision quickly. _

_Elessar_

Faramir threw the letter into the fireplace and watched the flames consume it. The Great Plague has returned! During the last epidemic, in the year 1636 it had nearly halved Gondor's population. There was a tight squeezing in Faramir's chest. With a grunt, he turned away from the fire and fairly sprinted to his room.

Éowyn was still asleep. Farmir was glad: The less Éowyn knew, the less she would be alarmed. And the less alarmed Éowyn is, the less she would want to stay with him. Éowyn and Elboron's safety washis priority right now.

He bent over Éowyn. He called her name once and shook her gently. Éowyn did not awaken. Faramir shook her a little harder. Éowyn moaned softly and whispered, "Not now, Faramir. I'm too tired. Tomorrow night, hmm?" Éowyn gave a sleepy smile. It made Faramir's heart ache to see Éowyn so beautiful.

"Wake up, Éowyn," whispered Faramir. "Please wake up."

Éowyn's eyes half-opened. Her eyes were filled with confusion and concern. She sat up and said, "What is it, Faramir?"

Faramir decided to tell Éowyn the truth. "The Great Plague has entered Minas Tirith."

Éowyn's mouth opened. "Impossible."

Faramir nodded grimly. "The King Elessar is sending Arwen and Eldarion away from Minas Tirith, to Tolfolas. I want you to go with them, Éowyn. Please."

"And what about you?"

Faramir took a deep breath and replied, "I will stay in the City with the King Elessar. You will follow them, do you understand, Éowyn?"

"No," replied Éowyn defiantly. "I will stay with you. Do you hear me? I will stay with you. Elboron can follow them, Faramir, but I cannot leave you. I will stay with you no matter what." Tears began rolling down Éowyn's face.

"And we risk Elboron losing both parents?" Faramir said, making his tone stern. "So that he can grow up an orphan, without a mother or father?" Seeing the anger and grief on Éowyn's face, he took her into his arms. "No, Éowyn. You will stay with Elboron, and Elboron shall travel to Tolfolas with the Queen and the little Prince. I would go with you, Éowyn. Do you think I want to die? I want to see my son grow tall! I want to see the girls chasing after him."

Éowyn buried her face in Faramir's shoulder and sobbed broken sobs. Faramir held her tighter for a while. Then, he released her.

"There isn't much time, Éowyn," he said. "Quickly, pack your things. Do not bring unnecessary things. Just bring what you need, Éowyn. I will send Beregond with you, and Bergil, too. Bergil can help you care for Elboron, and Beregond I will hold responsible for your life, safety, and health."

Éowyn gave a brave nod. Faramir felt overcome with emotion. He kissed her and held her. Then he whispered, "Go now, Éowyn."

"What about you?" Éowyn asked, wiping away her tears.

"I will ride for Minas Tirith," said Faramir. Seeing that Éowyn was not moving, he said, frustrated, "Go, Éowyn."

Éowyn rose and turned to leave.

"And, Éowyn," Faramir called. Éowyn halted. "I love you," he said.

Éowyn nodded, and left the room.

Faramir walked to Elboron's cradle. He picked up his son's sleeping form. Elboron was only six months old, yet he had to live in such a terrible time. Would there be no peace in this world? Faramir kissed Elboron's brow. A new voice next to him.

"Lord?" it said. Faramir turned. It was Beinna, Elboron's nurse. "I will take him now," she said softly. Faramir nodded and handed Elboron to Beinna.

"The Valar be with you, lord," said Beinna, turning to leave. Faramir did not reply.

**A/N: **I hope this story turns out okay... Hate it? Love it? Review, please!


	2. Letters

**Summary: **The Great Plague attacks Middle earth again. In a desperate attempt to save Éowyn and Elboron, Faramir sends them away. But things do not go so well as Faramir falls ill himself.

**A/N: **Second chapter! This chapter is a letter from Faramir to Éowyn, Éowyn to Faramir, Aragorn to Arwen, and Arwen to Aragorn. And in Aragorn's letter, I steal a line similar to one from _A Knight's Tale... _I hope I don't make a habit out of this.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the characters except a few.

**II**

_My dearest Éowyn:_

_I hope all is well with you and the Queen in Tolfolas. I hope the prince and our sun are enjoying each others company and enjoying the sunshine and water. As for myself and the King, we are ever fighting to keep the Plague under control. There are none in the City, save the healers, several soldiers, and, of course, the sick. When I walk in the streets, my skin crawls with the silence. Ever do I see dark, wispy fingers creeping out of the houses of those who have died. My mind is not at ease, my love. _

_Yesterday, two more died. One was a soldier, the other a man who has been lying long in the Houses. And after the soldier died, I overheard two soldiers talking. Their hearts were darkened with the death of their comrade, and I could do nothing to comfort them. _

_"I do not believe the healers could not heal him," said one. _

_"There's always a first time," replied the other._

_Yes, there's always a first time. This is the first time that I've been so far from you, Éowyn. I miss you and Elboron terribly, and it is my greatest desire to be reunited with you again. _

_I have to end this letter, my love. I feel weary and my head is pounding. Do not worry for the King and I, and tell the Queen not to worry for her husband and I. My heart is light, Éowyn. Always remember, my love: have hope and faith. _

_Until my next letter,_

_Faramir_

_P.S. Please burn this letter as soon as you have read it. I believe it is safer, for it may be carrying the Plague with it. F. _

_-_

_Dear Faramir: _

_I burned your letter, as you have requested, but not before making a copy of it. I want to reply your every question, so that when you read this letter, you can feel that you are right next to me, seeing all this with me._

_All is well in Tolfolas. Yes, our son and Eldarion are enjoying the bright sunshine and the Sea. The Queen - or Arwen, as she bids me call her now, have become well acquainted with each other. She is the best companion any woman can ask for, my dear. Yesterday, Arwen and I spent our afternoon watching the children on the balcony. Eldarion is very gentle with our son. He treats Elboron like a little brother. _

_Everyday, I look north-east, to Minas Tirith. And everyday, I see little yellow spots in the Pelennor. And now I know it is funeral pyres, being burned. I must admit, my dear, that they feel my heart with sorrow and dread. I cannot help thinkingabout theone who has died, and whether his family knows._

_Yesterday, Bergil took Eldarion to the beach for a walk. Eldarion accidently stepped on a sharp piece of coral. He was very brave. Bergil carried Eldarion, bleeding foot and all, back to the house, where Beinna bound his foot. I seldom need Beinna to care for Elboron anymore, now that I am around our son always. I noticed Bergil is beginning to sprout a few hairs on his chin. Soon, Beregond will need to teach him how to shave._

_Please write soon, my dear Faramir. _

_Love,_

_Éowyn_

_-_

_Dearest Arwen:_

_I miss you horribly, like how the Sun misses the flower in the dead of winter, and I miss Eldarion. Has he grown taller? I have a feeling that he is elated that he has stopped his fencing lessons. Please remind our son that this is only temporary. Tell him I miss him, Arwen. _

_It is well here. So far, we have received no news of the Plague spreding to other parts, save for the one case in Lossarnach. I hope it goes no further South and no further North. The Harads know of the Plague, and they are sending their people further South, just in case. I wish we were as lucky as them, but someone else would have to suffer. _

_Remember how when I first saw you, I thought I had strayed into a dream? I am the same here, only I feel like I have strayed into a nightmare. A nightmare where I cannot wake up. Seeing the people die feels like a dagger being shoved in between my ribs. _

_Faramir, our Prince of Ithilien, has been a good help and friend. I hope I have been a good friend to him, too. Yesterday, a man from Imloth Melui came, bearing several leaves of _athelas_. I hope it helps the sick, though I fear I have doubt in my heart._

_But let me not burden you with such talk. Please reply soon. And by the way, Faramir says to burn the letter as soon as you receive it, for it may carry traces of the illness to you. I know this sounds queer, but we cannot afford any mistakes, Arwen. I do not want to put you, Éowyn, and the two lads at risk._

_Send my regards to Éowyn. _

_I love you, Arwen. I love you so much._

_Yours,_

_Aragorn_

_-_

_My dear Aragorn:_

_I have done as you bid me. I have burnt the letter and sent your regards to Éowyn. Here, she sends her regards and blessings. Yes, Eldarion has grown half an inch since you last saw him. We have decided to mark the doorframe of his bedroom. When he next measures himself, I shall make another mark there. Yesterday, when Bergil son of Beregond took Eldarion down to the beach, Eldarion stepped on a piece of coral. Beinna, Elboron's maid, helped bind his foot. Eldarion was very brave: he shed not one tear. When Éowyn told him that he was brave, he simply replied, "I shall die ere I weep openly." I think I beginning to see the traits of my brothers in him: stubborn, proud, and brave._

_Eldarion is calling me, Aragorn. Please send my regards to Faramir. May the grace of the Valar be with you._

_Your devoted,_

_Arwen_

**

* * *

A/N: It took me so long to find a way to continue the story. I know it sounds a bit silly that in the middle of a epidemic, they are writing letters to each other. But I felt they must keep up the correspondence. I hope you don't mind I updated so fast, but I have nothing better to do now.**

_Dimfuin_: **It seems like a good beginning! I am very eager to read the rest of the story, so don't give it up.**

Thank you for those words of encouragement. I don't think this'll be a story I'll abandon.

_Alatariel5079_: **your off to a great start! i love it so far!**

_steelelf_: **What line did you steal? Looks ok to me! (some typos, though)**

I stole: I want to see my son grow tall! I want to see the girls chasing after him. And I apologize for the typos. I just realized that I had them. Reading the line now reminds me kind of fangirls...

_The Lady Shieldmaiden_: **I like it very much. You did very well, and actually made me feel sad when Eowyn and Elboron and to leave. Most fanfics I read can address sad issues, but the writers don't evoke any emotion. Good job!**

Once again, I am honored. Thank you.

_Celebne_: **Very interesting story! I am very curious waiting for the next chapter. Please, update quickly:hugs: Celebne**

Abracadabra! You got your wish!


	3. Drowning in Darkness

**Summary: **The Great Plague attacks Middle earth again. In a desperate attempt to save Éowyn and Elboron, Faramir sends them away. But things do not go so well as Faramir falls ill himself.

**A/N: **Finally updated! Third time lucky, as they say. Sorry I took so long to update the story. Here it is... Right before your eyes.

**Disclaimer: **The characters I own are obvious. The rest I am merely borrowing. By the way, the Albarod in this story is not affiliated to the Albarod in my earlier story _Much Ado About Nothing_.

Faramir rubbed his temples. The day had been long. Five more men had died, and three people - a woman, a man, and a boy - had arrived in Minas Tiriths from the refugee camps that the banks of the Anduin in South Ithilien. "If South Ithilien has the Plague," the king had said, "it would not take too long for it to reach our southern neighbors."

"May the Valar protect us," Faramir had replied.

He has been having headaches these past few days. They have become more frequent, and much stronger. He did not want to tell the King Elessar: he has enough troubles on his hands. Today, though,he hadnearly exposed his secret: When Faramir was helping a healer oversee a sick boy, an attack came. He placed his hands on his temples and swooned in pain. The healer had said, "Lord?" Faramir waved his hand and merely said, "I am weary. Make sure this boy is comfortable. I do not think he would live to see the morning."

_I could dismiss it as weariness, _thought Faramir. He lied to himself: _Yes, 'tis nothing but weariness. It'll pass once I get a good night's rest and some wine. _But deep, deep down, Faramir knew it was actually more than that.

The Sun was shining on the gardens as Aragorn and Faramir walked. They needed a moment alone. Being in the garden brought back the a lovely image and memory: Éowyn. How he missed her! How he missed Elboron! How he missed Elboron's gurgling, childish laugher. How he missed the cool touch of Éowyn's fingers upon his skin... the taste of her lips...

Faramir brushed away all thoughts of Éowyn's lips.

"This plague is vexing me," said the king. "It cannot be carried by the wind: all the refugees were pronounced fit by the healers the day before they fled the City. It must be something else... but what?" Aragorn heaved a sigh. He stopped to observe a flower.

The world spun. Faramir took a deep breath and steadied himself. His feet felt like rubber. Usually, the smell of the flowers made him relax. Today, the scent thick and heavy, like an evil fog. It stuck in his throat and clouded his vision. Everything had a whitish tint to it, and everything seemed hazy.

_Steady, Faramir, _he reminded himself.

Someone cleared his throat. Aragorn and Faramir turned. A soldier, a young one, was standing there. He saluted, looking most uncomfortable in the suit of armor he was wearing. Or perhaps he was ill too...? The soldier cleared his throat again and said, "Prince Faramir." He held out something. "This just came from you. From Tolfolas."

Faramir's heart lept. Éowyn!

Aragorn smiled knowingly and said, "Perhaps we should leave the prince alone."

Alone in the garden, Faramir broke the seal. Eagerly, he read its contents. _Éowyn, oh my Éowyn, _he thought lovingly as he read the letter.

_Dear Faramir:_

_I cannot stand it anymore. I miss you so much. Elboron is always asking for his father. I expect that that is a good sign, that he still remembers his father even though you left us so many weeks ago. He has grown much. Elboron had a touch of the flu a fortnight ago, but 'tis passed. His fever broke abruptly._

_Come to Tolfolas, my dear! Come and stay in Tolfolas with me and Elboron, where there is Sun and water and waves. I miss you so much. There is this empty aching in my chest. Where my heart once was, there is an empty cavity. You said the king feels that you are needed most with your family - us. Come to us, my dear! He said he shall not force you to stay! Leave Minas Tirith, away from the death and the suffering. We could run away with Elboron. As far as we could go, we can run. To Buckland and live with Merry, perhaps. Or maybe to the high mountains Ered Nimrais. _

_Perhaps I sound selfish. I know I should be the steadfast, stalwart wife who is there to support her husband when he needs it most - like Arwen. But I cannot help myself, my dear. The barrier I have set up to keep my emotions back has broken, and my emotions are being spilled onto this piece of parchment. I miss you terribly, and I know you miss me terribly, too. Each time I open your letter, 'tis all about death and illness and suffering. Come away from all that, Faramir! You have seen to much of it in your life already. Why torment yourself more?_

_Éowyn_

Faramir felt torn. He folded the letter. He had hoped that Éowyn's letter would contain some comforting talk about Elboron, about Eldarion, about the Queen. He had hoped that it would make him feel better both physically and mentally. Instead, it weighed him down. Faramir felt as if Éowyn had chained two blocks on lead to both his legs, dragging him down.

He rubbed his temples again.

He must write a letter to Éowyn. Yes, he must write to her and tell her truthfully about why exactly he is in Minas Tirith, and not in Tolfolas with her and their son. She would understand. Yes, she would. Éowyn has understood for him in their three years of marriage. Faramir felt a rush of love and tears for his family.

Faramir walked briskly to his room. He passed one of the Houses. A woman was pouring vomit from a copper basin down the drain. There, it would pass into Minas Tirith's sewage system and eventually would be swept out to the Sea. He passed another room. The king was speaking to the Prince Imrahil.

"Do you notice something strange?" asked the Prince. Faramir stopped to listen.

"Speak," said the king.

"All refugee camps in Anorien have no cases of the Plague, whereas those in South Ithilien..." The Prince let his sentence hang in the air.

Faramir did not dwell long on this. He walked briskly to his room. The world was spinning faster and faster, but Faramir did not bother to stop. He wanted to write that letter as soon as possible, so that Éowyn could know as soon as possible. But this attack was more painful, more extreme than those he had experienced before. His fingers went weak; Éowyn's letter fluttered onto the floor. Faramir's knees became weak, and the world tilted. He saw a healer running toward him, and that was the last thing he saw.

-

Worry. Yes, worry was the number one thing in Éowyn's life right now. Worry, and joy. Worry for her husband in Minas Tirith; joy at watching her son growing tall and strong. His skin took on a dull tinge of bronze from playing in the Sun day after day. Eldarion was not as fortunate though: his shoulders and nose have blistered from a bad case of sunburn.

Éowyn was regretting sending that letter to Faramir. _I need to be more supportive, _she told herself. His reply had not come, and Éowyn was worrying that he was feeling angry. But Faramir was not that kind of person. He would write her a letter, explaining his actions. And he would tell her how much he loved her, how much he wanted to be with her...

Someone knocked on the door of her apartment. Éowyn's heart jumped. She put down the pillowcase she had been embroidering for Faramir. In the bottom left corner, she had stitched two blackbirds, singing at each other. Although Éowyn's fingers were smarting from being stabbed so many times, she felt that the pain was worth it.

"Come in," Éowyn said, trying to keep her emotions under control. Her heart sank when she saw that it was only Beinna.

"Good afternoon, lady," said Beinna, curtsying.

"Good afternoon," replied Éowyn. "Has Elboron done something that requires my attention?"

"Nay, lady," said Beinna, curstying again. "Goodness, no! He has been fine all this afternoon. Right now, Eldarion is reading a story to him in the library. 'Tis just--" Beinna hesitated.

"Yes?" said Éowyn.

"'Tis just a man from Minas Tirith," said Beinna slowly. "He said he has some important news for you. 'Very urgent,' says he. 'Only for the Lady Éowyn's ears.'"

Éowyn laughed lightheartedly. "'Tis probably just a letter from Faramir, my dear Beinna." Éowyn rose and followed Beinna down the staircase. However, Beinna's words echoed in her head.

_'Only for the Lady Éowyn's ears,' _the man had said. If it were a letter from Faramir, why did he not just pass the letter to Beinna, as always? And if it were a letter from Faramir, he would have said, "Only for the Lady Éowyn's eyes." One does not read with their ears...

Éowyn's mouth went dry.

Beinna opened the door to the Great Hall. A man was pacing back and forth, stopping to admire an embroidered banner once in a while. Éowyn knew, however, that his calm was all a pretense. A pretense, perhaps, to keep the servants from suspecting something and gossiping about it. Servants gossip among themselves so much that a piece of news can spread through the house in less than an hour.

The man did not notice Éowyn or Beinna. Éowyn cleared her throat. The man turned so sharply that Éowyn's heart stopped for a few seconds. The man placed a hand on his breast and bowed his head. Éowyn gave him a deep nod.

"Lady," said the man. "I bring urgent news from Minas Tirith. However..." The man looked over Éowyn's shoulder, at Beinna. Éowyn understood his meaning. She nodded to Beinna. Beinna ducked her head and exited the Great Hall, closing the doors behind her - but not totally. Of course, neither Éowyn nor the man noticed that.

"Speak," said Éowyn.

"As I said, lady, I bring urgent news from Minas Tirith," said the man. He paused.

"What is it?" asked Éowyn, feeling impatient for some kind of news. "Has the Plague finally died?"

"Nay, lady," said the man softly. "I bring bad news, lady."

Silence.

"Yes?" asked Éowyn. She tasted copper and her breathing became shallow. The man must have noticed, for he drew up a chair for her. Éowyn sat down, and the man drew up another chair. He took a deep breath before he began.

"My name is Albarod, lady," he said slowly. "'Tis been five nights since I rode down the Anduin to bring this piece of news to you. The King Elessar had ordered I bring it as soon as I could. He lent me his fastest boat, for the River is the fastest means of transport to Tolfolas--"

Éowyn waved her hand. "Please, tell me what you are here to tell me."

Obviously, the man Albarod had been dreading this moment. He took another deep breath before saying in a big, rush of words, "The Prince Faramir has fallen ill. Ill of the Plague. His condition is serious. Obviously, he has been concealing this for a long while. The Prince Faramir is unconscious. He had not woken when I left the City."

Éowyn felt numb. Cold sweat broke out on her forehead. She gathered her sense and stood up, saying, "I will leave for the City immedietly."

Albarod rose. "Nay, milady," said he. "The King has ordered you to stay in Tolfolas. Minas Tirith is not a safe place, for all the sick in the camps have been sent there. Death is in that City, lady."

Éowyn's fury rose. "But 'tis my _husband _who is lying _dying _within those walls, my good man!" she cried. "I want to see him, to be next to him, to nurse him back to health." She spun away, but Albarod grabbed her wrist. He had a strong grip.

"Please, lady," he begged. "The King commands it."

Éowyn sank back down into the chair. She placed her hands over her face and sobbed. Albarod stood there, unsure on what to do. Éowyn wiped her eyes with her knuckles and said to Albarod, "When does your boat leave Tolfolas?"

"As long as it takes us to restock our supplies," answered Albarod. The man bowed. "If you do not need me, I shall leave," he said. "The Valar be with you, lady."

"And with you," replied Éowyn.

That night, a dark figure slipped out to the port and climbed unnoticed onto Albarod's boat.


	4. Note

**Summary: **The Great Plague attacks Middle earth again. In a desperate attempt to save Éowyn and Elboron, Faramir sends them away. But things do not go so well as Faramir falls ill himself.

**A/N: **I'm stalling, buying time, procrastinating, crapping... Use whatever term you like, but please review this chapter!

**Disclaimer: **I own some characters... You'll see.

Beinna picked up the note the Lady had left her. She unfolded it. Usually, she could read even the messiest handwriting, but this one simply left her stunned. It was a hurried scrawl... Actually, Beinna would not even call it a _scrawl. _It was more like a drunken spider falling off the side of a piece of parchment. Beinna squinted until her eyes ached. _I should have stayed at the door and listened more, _she thought. _Damn that old fart of a soldier Duhildir for calling me away! _The squinting paid off: she knew what the note said. Beinna laughed softly.

In the kitchen, Cook was peeling the potatoes. Next to her was more potatoes to be peeled. Beinna stood there, watching Cook. Cook looked up from her work and wiped her sweaty brow with the back of her large hand. "If you aren't going to help," she snapped, "I'd suggest you let those who are working _work_." The Cook held up a small shiny knife.

Beinna handed the note to Cook before drawing up a small stool. She took the knife and began peeling. Most people find peeling potatoes a chore, but not Beinna. She had six little brothers and sisters back home in Lossarnach, and peeling potatoes was an everyday thing for her.

The Cook paused to the read the note. She deciphered it faster than Beinna had expected. The Cook snorted with laughter. "Lovely," Cook snapped sarcastically. "We are in Tolfolas with the Queen, a van of soldiers, and two little lads who run amok without any discipline." She put the note down and peeled furiously. "Lovely... lovely..."

"I'm sure she meant well," Beinna said slowly. She disliked people speaking bad of her lord and lady: They had taken her in as a maid of Elboron. She has had a lot of experience with little children, especially after she took her mother's place back home...

Beinna tried not to think of her mother.

"D'you know what I think?" snapped Cook (she snaps a lot, Beinna noticed). Without waiting for Beinna's answer, she continued snappily, "I think the prince is ill and she wants to be by his side 'til his last breath. That's what I think."

"There's nothing wrong in that, Cookie," Beinna said. Although Cook was as prickly as a hedgehog, Beinna enjoyed her company. It was something to do on a boring day, when there was nothing to do. (With Prince Eldarion hovering around little Elboron so much and acting like an older brother, what use was there for Beinna?)

Cook gave this some thought before admitting, "No, I suppose not."

Beinna put the knife down and reached over to pick the note off the ground. "I think I should go tell the Queen. It is only right that she should know."

Cook snorted. "That's nice. When I thought that lazy bum of a girl was finally going to get off her rear to help me, she darts off to speak with the Queen. That's nice..." She continued to mutter to herself even after Beinna had left the kitchen.

Beinna could not help but smile as she climbed the spiral stairwell to the Queen's private tower. On her way up, she passed one of the guards, getting off his duty. He was the young one that always greeted Beinna. The only thing that she knew about him was that he is one of the Prince Faramir's most trusted men, though she seldom saw him in Emyn Arnen (which is not unusual, for Beinna never mingled with the soldiers). He was a little shorter - and perhaps a year younger - than Beinna, but she liked him anyway. He placed a hand on his breast and ducked his head. Beinna curtseyed before climbing on.

The door was ajar, but Beinna knocked. Then came the Queen's melodious voice: "Come in," and that was what Beinna did.

The Queen Evenstar was seated at the balcony. Eldarion and Elboron were sitting on her enormous bed, playing something. When Beinna neared, she realized it was wooden horses they were playing with. She recognized them: the Prince Faramir made them for Elboron a few months ago. Elboron and Eldarion gave Beinna smiles. Beinna smiled back. Those two rascals had grown as thick as thieves (which is strange because two apples went missing from the winter stores yesterday).

"My queen." Beinna curtseyed. The Queen acknowleged her. Although Beinna had seen the Queen plenty of times, she never stopped being amazed. Amazed at her beauty, her wisdom, her eyes... It must be a trait of the Fair Folk.

"Good morning," said the Queen.

Beinna held out the note. The Queen raised her eyebrows and took it from Beinna. She unfolded the scrap of parchment and read it. The Queen gave a lighthearted yet worried laugh.

"Do not worry about the Lady," said the Queen. "If I know her like I do, Beinna, she knows what she is doing."

Beinna nodded. "Of course, my queen! But I can never stop just feeling worried..." her voice slowed, "for... them..." The Queen gave an understanding smile. "The Cook says the Prince Faramir is ill with the Plauge," said Beinna cautiously. "Do you think that is true?"

The Queen looked away. "Who knows? Perhap it is, perhaps it is not. Rumors fly on the wings of the wind, and what may be a common cold might have been mistaken for something more serious." The Queen looked back at Beinna, smiling again.

Beinna blushed. "Of course he's alright," she said, half to herself. "I just couldn't help being worried." Cheeks burning, Beinna curtseyed. "Good day, my queen."

She fairly flew down the steps. When she had shut the door behind her, she cursed herself for not asking if she should tell Elboron, should he ask. But she could not go in again, not now, as gracious as the queen is. At the bottom of the stairs was the young soldier. He was out of his armor and he seemed delighted to see her.

"Good morning," said he.

"Good morning," replied Beinna. Pause. "You greet me every morning, yet I do not know your name."

"Do you not?" said the soldier, half smiling. "Then I tell you: It's Bergil, son of Beregond."

**

* * *

A/N: (pauses after finishing the chapter) I actually had _fun _writing this chapter. I never intended for the young soldier to be Bergil, really. I just thought it might be cute.**(pauses after finishing the chapter) I actually had writing this chapter. I never intended for the young soldier to be Bergil, really. I just thought it might be cute. 

_Arahiril: _**Silly Faramir. But it's so very him though. Very interesting and well-written... I am looking forward to the next update.**

Here is your chapter... I laughed - which is a good thing - and was touched - an ever better thing, I think - when I read your review. I'm glad you like this story.

_WindStar: _**sad :( but good. Please continue:) **

I like that little thing you did with the sad face and smiley face. Very creative.

_CaptiveFaRaMiRheart: _**next chapter next chapter next chapter..! woo! this is good! I gots ma popcorn and coke ready for the next chapter!**

_steelelf: _**Good chapter, oh my gosh, poor Faramir!**

I like your review: short and sweet, yet says a lot. No sarcasm intended, thank you.

_Celebne: _**What an exciting chapter! Now Faramir is ill. Please update soon:hugs: Celebne**

I hope you liked this chapter.


	5. Shadow

**Summary: **The Great Plague attacks Middle earth again. In a desperate attempt to save Éowyn and Elboron, Faramir sends them away. But things do not go so well as Faramir falls ill himself.

**A/N: **Whew! Short chapter, this time. I promise - and I hope - that the next chapter will be longer.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own a lot of the characters, but the ones I do I hope you appreciate.

The fever would not abate. Faramir, though his eyes were closed, would toss and turn, his head burning and pounding. For a long time, he only knew two things: dreams and darkness. He always dreamed that terrible dream: the dark waves climbing over and higher. Over the hills, crashing upon him, sweeping him away in the murky, oily water. He would gag and cough, tasting a terrible, bitter taste in his mouth. Then, the darkness would come back.

Once, he had awoken. He saw Ioreth's moonface hovering over his. She smiled at him and said, "Sleep, my lord. Sleep." Ioreth lifted Faramir's head. The bitter liquid would rush into his mouth and the darkness returned.

Aragorn watched his friend in distress. Meanwhile, outside, a storm churned up the Anduin. Aragorn was worried for the messenger he had sent. Albarod was shocked to hear that the Prince Faramir was ill - with the _Plague_. Aragorn sent him to Éowyn, to tell her of the terrible news.

Would Éowyn - for once - follow his instructions? Aragorn daren't think of what would happen if Éowyn came to Minas Tirith.

Six days passed before Albarod's company reached Minas Tirith. Albarod had grim news: two men on his ship had contacted the Plague, despite them not making contact with any of the refugee camps. This vexed Aragorn further. So many months had passed from the first case, and they still had not found the cause of the spread of the Plague.

The Houses of the Healing was not a pleasent place to be. There was the sour smell of urine and vomit the air. Ever was there the sound of moans coming from the ill. The sound of the moans made Ioreth's skin crawl as she carried a basin to the Prince Faramir's bed. It was at the end of the long hall, next to the window.

He still had not awoken. A ray of light had fallen through the curtains and created a patch of sunlight on Faramir's chest. Ioreth sat next to Faramir.

Ioreth sighed as she sponged Faramir's forehead. "I swear," she said to the unconcious man, "that I could poach an egg for your morning meal on your brow, lord." Faramir did not answer, but he uttered a moan. It was the moan of a tortured man. Ioreth sighed again. Suddenly, Faramir leaned over the side of the bed and retched onto the floor.

Ioreth sighed for the third time as she rose for a rag. A cloaked figure swept past her on her way out. The person smelled faintly of salt. Perhaps it was one of the sailors from Albarod's company, home from giving the news to the Lady Éowyn. "That poor lady," said Ioreth. "Her husband is ill and she is all the way at the bottom of the Anduin."

-

Faramir's head was pounding. The effects of the bitter liquid was wearing off. There was no remedy, though, for the ache in his joints; and most of all, for the ache in his heart. Suddenly, there was a cool, wet feeling on his forehead. A distant voice spoke to him, but he could not understand what the speaker was saying. His stomach churned. There was a smell that made him nauseous. Without thinking, he turned over and retched onto the floor.

A dream came to him: He was on one side of a river. Through the mist, he saw Éowyn standing opposite him. There were tears on Éowyn's face, and in her arms she cradled a sleeping Elboron. Watching them made his heart ache for ever leaving them. He called her name, and she turned. He stepped into the cold river. Éowyn reached out and their hands met. But then, they were torn apart. Faramir could still see them standing on the river bank. Éowyn was calling, calling his name. Weeping, weeping his name.

"Éowyn!" he cried out.

That was when he opened his eyes. And it was then that he realized Éowyn was really calling his name. Not in a dream, but there. She was really there. Next to him. Her arms around his shoulders, her face in his chest. Weeping, calling his name.

She was really there.

In disbelief, Faramir breathed a sigh of relief and fell back into a dreamless slumber.

**A/N: **That must have been the hardest chapter to write so far. Please review!


	6. Doubt

**Summary: **The Great Plague attacks Middle earth again. In a desperate attempt to save Éowyn and Elboron, Faramir sends them away. But things do not go so well as Faramir falls ill himself.

**A/N: **Ok, I confess. This chapter did not turn out as long as I wanted it to be. I apologize.

**Disclaimer: **Only some characters belong to me. The rest I am merely borrowing.

Éowyn stood alone in the gardens, her arms wrapped around her body. Subconciously, Éowyn stroked the rough material of her cloak. The first of the evening stars were out; and all along the banks of the Anduin, Éowyn could see the dim firelight of the camps. She breathed a sigh, and her breath became a curling mist in the cold air before disappearing. Down, down at the port, she could see Albarod's ship. Two sailors had become ill with the sickness that plagued (_How appropriate, _thought Éowyn) her husband.

It has been nearly seven days since she arrived. Nothing has changed. More sick are being brought in from the camps. The City is still as empty and dreary as before.

Faramir, despite awakening when he heard her voice, had once again lasped into his unconcious, dreamy state. The fever was not completely gone, and Éowyn knew that Aragorn was feeling worried, too. It made Éowyn smile to think that before the Plague had begun Aragorn and Faramir had merely been king and steward. Now, they were close friends. How strange that in such times like these, the present circumstances brought people closer to each other.

A breeze blew from the South. It made Éowyn think of Elboron. Has he been asking for her? Perhaps not: he scarcely noticed her when Eldarion was around him. Eldarion... he was such a sweet boy. Intelligent and wise, too, despite his age. He would make a good king. Of that Éowyn had no doubt. Perhaps it's a good thing that he and her son were playing with each other so often.

A voice from behind her pierced her troubled thoughts. "When will you ever learn to listen, Éowyn?" The voice was tired. It sounded old, and worried, and troubled. Even though she knew who it was, Éowyn turned around.

"When horses learn to fly, Aragorn," said Éowyn. There stood Aragorn, holding a lamp. The glow from the lamp dimly illuminated his face, making him appear stern. It amused Éowyn to see that he had a sword hanging from his belt. The phrase _Old habits die hard _rang in Éowyn's mind.

Aragorn laughed and stood next to Éowyn. She turned back and leaned against the cold stone wall. The sight of the gardens brought wonderful memories to her. _Oh Faramir! _she thought. _How terrible it is for us to meet again in this place with you in this state. _Éowyn felt her nose tingle with emotion, but she rubbed her eyes. The desire to cry went away.

"How is Arwen?" asked Aragorn.

"She is fine," said Éowyn. "She enjoys being by the Sea very much, I think. Everyday, she and I will take Eldarion and Elboron down to the beach."

"I've heard."

Silence. What was there to say? There was enough darkness in the present times, and all memory of joy and hope seemed lost. Éowyn squinted into the void below her. She could hear soldiers walking around in the City, quietly, silently. Éowyn wondered if once, years ago, before he became a captain, Faramir had once patroled the streets like them.

Éowyn knows that Faramir loves Minas Tirith, and he will do all he could to defend her. But to stay and protect her people 'til the point of death? That was a kind of love Éowyn never knew, except from Faramir. She turned around to speak to Aragorn, but found that he was not standing there anymore.

It frightened her, being alone so suddenly. She realized, at that moment, that people could leave so quietly, without a word, leaving her alone. One word flashed through her mind: _Faramir_. She breathed his name into the breeze and rushed down to the Houses of Healing.


	7. Hope

**Summary: **The Great Plague attacks Middle earth again. In a desperate attempt to save Éowyn and Elboron, Faramir sends them away. But things do not go so well as Faramir falls ill himself.

**A/N: **Chapter seven. Mush, mush, mush, and a revelation.

**Disclaimer: **As always, I do not own most of the characters.

The dizziness began to ebb, and Faramir slowly opened his eyes. It was late: the tallow candle next to his bed was burning low. Or perhaps the candle has been used many times... There seemed so many things that Faramir could not remember. Where was he? And he remembered: the Houses of Healing. There were the more sick than Faramir had remembered.

Faramir sat up in his bed. His shirt was drenched in sweat, and it had soaked through the material, onto the bed. It made a dark patch and little freckles on the sheets. His hair felt like he had just jumped into a bath. Speaking of baths, he felt like he could use one right now. There was sweat upon his brow.

He remembered something.

"Éowyn?" he whispered, and found that his tongue felt like a large block of lead. Faramir's voice cracked from lack of use. His throat felt dry. There was a pitcher of water next to the candle, and a mug. Hands trembling, Faramir poured himself water. He lifted it to his dry lips and drank deeply.

"Faramir?"

He put the mug of water down and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. And his eyes widened. Perhaps his head was suffering from the effects of a fever, or perhaps she was really there. It was Éowyn. Her eyes were wide, her hair tangled. She rushed to him.

"Éowyn," he repeated.

With tears in her eyes, she nodded. Éowyn lifted her hand and gently caressed Faramir's cheek. _She is really there, _thought Faramir as he felt the cool, dry touch of Éowyn's hand on his damp, flushed cheek. Éowyn's hand moved down to his neck; then down to his shoulders. _He is really there, _thought Éowyn as she felt the tensed muscles.

Éowyn spoke. "I was so afraid that I would lose you forever. I was so afraid that I would never feel you again, like this, with you looking back at me." Éowyn sank onto the bed. She leaned against him, feeling his damp skin on her cheek. She said, "I missed you."

Faramir nodded, a lump in his throat. "I saw you in all my dreams," he said.

"How did you see me?"

"Sometimes," said Faramir, recalling old fragments of feverish hallucinations, "you were right next to me, like now. Sometimes, you were torn away from me, and I could do nothing but watch you go. And sometimes, you were like a phantom. I could grasp you, could not feel you." Faramir kissed her cheek. "I cannot imagine anything worse than that."

Éowyn smiled.

"Did the king really allow you to come to Minas Tirith?" Faramir asked.

"No," she replied. "I came by myself aboard the messenger's ship. I disguised myself as a sailor."

Faramir laughed. "And the masquerade continues," he teased. "What name did you adopt this time, my love?"

Éowyn giggled. "None, lord," she said. "I hid in the ship's hold, though two sailors discovered me. They are good men, and they gave me food throughout the entire journey."

"Where are they now?" asked Faramir. "I want to thank them properly."

Éowyn's face darkened, and she turned away. "One of them is ill," she said softly. "The other, I do not know." Faramir felt her tremble.

"Oh lord!" It was Ioreth. "I know you want to speak to your wife," she said, rushing over, "but you must rest. Your body is still weak, and we cannot risk you falling ill again, can we?"

Though Faramir was annoyed, he showed no sign of it. He took Éowyn's hand in his, and he gently kissed it. "I will see you tomorrow," he whispered. Éowyn nodded, and she turned and left.

-

He had managed to escape Ioreth's tyranny. Éowyn and Faramir sat on the gardens. She was leaning against him, and he had his arms around her shoulders. Faramir thought to himself, _She feels thin. _Had she really been so worried that she had lost her appetite?

Lazily, Faramir cast his eyes down the length of the Anduin. It was just like he remembered: silvery-grey with tiny dots down either sides of the banks. There were thin spirals of smoke rising from the dots, a silent reminder that winter was coming.

Suddenly, something occured to Faramir.

"Éowyn," said Faramir, "all of Minas Tirith's drains lead to the River, right?"

Éowyn, puzzled at the fact that even the youngest Minas Tirithian child would know the answer, replied, "Yes."

"And the people in the camps use the water for drinking and eating, right?"

"I suppose so..." said Éowyn. And suddenly, Éowyn knew what Faramir meant. Her mouth formed a silent **O**.

Faramir rose, and without another word, ran to the Aragorn's study. When he arrived there, he leaned against the door, panting, his chest heaving. Prince Imrahil and the King Elessar looked at him in surprise.

"Faramir!" said Imrahil. "You should be resting."

But Faramir was not listening. He cried out:

"I know! I know how the Plague is spreading!"

**

* * *

A/N: I appreciate your review, steelelf. See? I followed your advice! (lifts hands to block a possible blow)**


	8. Falling Roses

**Summary: **The Great Plague attacks Middle earth again. In a desperate attempt to save Éowyn and Elboron, Faramir sends them away. But things do not go so well as Faramir falls ill himself.

**A/N: **I'm back! Sorry, but I'll have to end this story... I love this story, but, as Robert Frost said, "Nothing gold can stay." Thanks for all the lovely reviews.

**Disclaimer: **The excerpt of the poem was written by Robert Frost. Most characters belong to Tolkien.

_Nature's first green is gold,  
Her hardest hue to hold.  
Her early leaf's a flower:  
But only so an hour.  
Then leaf subsides to leaf.  
So Eden sank to grief,  
So dawn goes down to day.  
Nothing gold can stay._

There was a mixture of colors over the horizon in the west: amber, gold, purple, orange, red, and perhaps, a hint of brown. A great wind rose from the Sea and riffled Éowyn's hair.

It was all gone. The fear, death, the Plague. And, if the Valar allowed, it would not come back ever again.

Elboron whimpered gently as he toddled over to a small bush of roses. Someone had stuck a tiny rosebush into a clay wine jar. The bush grew and grew until now, the roots are beginning to cause cracks in the jar. There was only one rose left, and on the floor were most of its petals.

"You were right," Faramir whispered into her hair: "Elboron has grown. I have been away too long, my love."

"I've been trying to tell you, haven't I?" Éowyn teased.

Faramir chuckled and sandwiched Éowyn's hands between his, saying, "Aye, I suppose you have. I apologize, lady." He bent to kiss her cheek, hesitated, and then kissed her lips.

When they pulled apart for air, Éowyn asked, "What did Aragorn say when you told him you knew how the Plague was spreading."

That memory was nearly three months old. Faramir thought for a while and said, "He was doubtful at first, but when I explained everything to him, he cried, 'What fools we have been!'" Faramir smiled. "I gave you plenty of credit, Éowyn."

"Why?"

"If you were not by me at that moment, I would not have been looking at the River, and the revelation would not have struck me," Faramir said, clasping her tighter.

Éowyn cocked her head. "True."

Faramir smiled. "I love you," he said.

Éowyn nodded. Then she said, "Oh, speaking of love, I think we may have a wedding on my hands, Faramir."

He pretended to look shocked and shot a glance at Elboron. "Our son is a little bit young, don't you think, Éowyn? Or has he found a beautiful beauty from the isle that suited his taste," he said. The corners of his mouth twitched.

Éowyn laughed. "Nay, nay. It's between Beinna and Bergil," she said. "Elboron's maid and Beregond's son."

Faramir raised an eyebrow. "Bergil is with Beinna?" he said slowly, as if tasting something for the first time. "She's too tall for him!"

Éowyn laughed and went inside. Faramir stood outside, watching Elboron. Elboron was still playing with the rosebush. And, like a great drop of blood, the last petal of the last rose fell. He watched it slowly float onto the ground before being blown away by the wind. But Faramir saw, amidst the dark leaves, tiny buds. And Faramir smiled: To him, the fallen petal was like the last few months: death, terror, fear, doubt. Now, the tiny buds meant a new chapter for him. A new chapter to be spent with his family.

Family...

"Come here, Elboron," he said, picking up his son. "Shall we go see what your mother is up to?"

With one last look at the rosebush, Faramir went inside.

**A/N: **Once again, thanks for all the reviews. I think I might be on the verge of something new soon... Maybe one of my one-shots. Anyway, thanks again.


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